


Affirmation

by eluna



Series: Subvert All The Tropes [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam Winchester, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Dirty Talk, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Sex, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Role Reversal, M/M, Miscommunication, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Your Mother's A/B/O Dynamics, Omega Dean Winchester, Omega Sam Winchester, Omega/Omega, Open Relationships, POV Dean Winchester, Season/Series 01, Trans Sam Winchester, Trope Subversion, Under-negotiated Kink, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 18:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10195727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eluna/pseuds/eluna
Summary: Dean always half-hoped that Sam would grow out of it, helpless to do anything much for him, but if anything, Sam’s gotten worse since those last two years at Stanford when he’d stopped coming to Dean to help him through them. At the time, Dean had surged with possessive rage when Sammy told him he’d taken a beta and that it was an exclusive thing—like Sam had the right to keep anything exclusive from the omega who raised him—but now? Seeing what the loss of Jessica has done to his little brother, especially these past two heats?Anyway, Dean can see Sammy burying the pain, now that his heat’s over, until it recedes somewhere deep inside him—someplace it can’t get at him anymore, not on the surface—and it’s better this way, easier on both of them. Sam tends to want space for a few days after his heats are over, so Dean checks out a second room for him, across the parking lot from his own, and then doesn’t see his brother at all for the following three days. He berates himself for his worry—he doesn’t get to waste his energy on alpha-esque bullshit like that.(Or: Omega/omega Wincest wherein Sam has omega-to-alpha dysphoria in a society that situates omegas as the dominant designation.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part two in a loose series of otherwise-unconnected, trope-subverting stories. This fic is my response to a lot of my problems with the overabundance of sexist tropes within A/B/O. Be aware that Dean is an unreliable narrator and fundamentally misunderstands Sam's needs.
> 
> Because characters in this universe perceive omegas as dominant and alphas as submissive, I've reversed the usage of some of the language surrounding sex in this story ("fucking" is performed by the bottom upon the top; omegas "claim" alphas and not the other way around). I wasn't sure whether the subversion of secondary designation roles would be more effective with an alpha/alpha or omega/omega pairing, but I ultimately settled for making Dean and Sam both biological omegas to avoid my personal squickiness about knotting, and I think it was this choice that made this story turn out as dark as it did. Enjoy?

When Sammy’s heat finally ends, Dean’s relieved for more reasons than one. Every omega in heat that Dean’s ever encountered starts getting irritable by around the second day, and so he and Sam have always been inclined to fight even more often than usual whenever one of them is in a heat—especially if it’s Sam, as the kid can’t ever leave anything well enough alone the rest of the time, either. He’s always been that way, but even more so since he presented, twelve years old and hysterical with slick soaked through his briefs. It’s worse because of Sam’s—problem—since he won’t claim an alpha and fucking Dean’s knotless cock isn’t enough to do him any good. He’ll bitch Dean out for it even as he’s riding him, then bitch some more in between fucks when Dean’s just taking care of him like he thought Sammy _wanted_ , fetching him water and calling him Dean’s sweet, fragile boy the way alphas are supposed to like. Sammy’s biological omega always comes through in his aggression, even more so during a heat, making Dean question sometimes whether Sam’s desire to get fucked isn’t really just some fetish instead of the O-to-A dysphoria he insists it is.

But Sam _must_ be telling the truth because he doesn’t react like every other omega, disliking heats strictly for the inconvenience or the feeling of powerlessness: he _hates_ them with an agitation verging on agony, crying and carrying on and begging Dean to make it stop. Dean always half-hoped that Sam would grow out of it, helpless to _do_ anything much for him, but if anything, Sam’s gotten worse since those last two years at Stanford when he’d stopped coming to Dean to help him through them. At the time, Dean had surged with possessive rage when Sammy told him he’d taken a beta and that it was an exclusive thing—like Sam had the right to keep anything exclusive from the omega who raised him—but now? Seeing what the loss of Jessica has done to his little brother, especially these past two heats?

Anyway, Dean can see Sammy burying the pain, now that his heat’s over, until it recedes somewhere deep inside him—someplace it can’t get at him anymore, not on the surface—and it’s better this way, easier on both of them. Sam tends to want space for a few days after his heats are over, so Dean checks out a second room for him, across the parking lot from his own, and then doesn’t see his brother at all for the following three days. He berates himself for his worry—he doesn’t _get_ to waste his energy on alpha-esque bullshit like that—and fills up the hours fucking little beta boys and scouring the papers for their next hunt, until finally, Sammy comes to him.

Dean’s in bed with a beta at the time, but it’s easy to throw him his clothes and tell him to leave _now_. The guy, Darien, is pissed but compliant, although Dean doesn’t like the way Sam’s eyeing him as he shuffles out through the door—with kind of a mix of pity and something else, something self-indulgent. Dean wonders if he’s going to try bringing up the possibility of monogamy again anytime soon, but today, Sam bites his lip and says nothing about it as he fumbles the hem of his hoodie. “Please.”

And yeah, Dean knows how this is going to go, but it’s all part of the ritual when he says anyway, “Gotta tell me, Sammy—please what?”

“Please fuck me,” Sam moans, blushing brilliantly, shy like alpha and so sweet for him.

“That’s real good, Sam.” Dean’s pulling him into his arms now, soothing over Sam’s back as his brother crumples and folds himself up over him. “Want big brother to ride you hard and tight? Weak little alpha need to be put in his place?”

He smirks while Sammy twitches and fidgets. “You’re such a jerk, Dean.”

“You always _say_ that,” Dean teases, curl of hot breath at Sam’s ear, and then gives Sam a hard press of thigh to grind down on. The kid whinnies all high-pitched and thready and humps down clumsily onto the muscle there, and yeah, Dean could get behind more where that’s coming from later, but they both know it’s not what Sam needs after heat—needs to be ridden and claimed and affirmed by the one person who won’t call him omega. “Doin’ so good for me, beautiful. Lie back and let me use you, little toy. Go on.”

He guides Sammy carefully, reverently, back to one of the beds and arranges him how he likes, his limbs heavy under Dean’s direction. Bending down for a sloppy kiss, he peels back the flaps of Sam’s hoodie, works his hard little cock free of his fly—not stripping off too many layers, not enough to leave Sam too conscious of the treacherous little body he hates so much. Sam’s jeans feel suspiciously dry, and Dean wonders if Sam’s dipped back into the stash of tampons he thinks Dean doesn’t know about to mop up his slick. “Pretty, so pretty,” he growls omega-low as he shucks his boxers down to his knees and fucks down fast onto Sam’s dick, hard and small and throbbing.

“No m’not,” Sam finally whines—there it is—breaking wide open as Dean fucks the tears right out of his eyes. “Useless, I’m useless, not a real alpha, not a good omega—”

“My good alpha,” Dean promises him, and Sam chokes out a garbled sob. “Perfect for me, Sammy. Feel how good you take my ass, hmm?”

“Can’t knot it,” Sam pants, “can’t—”

“I can find a knot when I want one,” he reminds him, and Sam’s crying in earnest now, trying to smother himself alive in the mattress to drown the sound. “No,” says Dean, wrenching, “wanna see those pretty tears—let me hear you— _there_ you go, lovely boy. Ain’t you still my good slut? Ain’t your hard little alpha cocklet let me slip so easy down onto it?”

“Not a slut.”

“Oh, yes. Such a good alpha slut for me, Sammy, just lyin’ there letting me pound onto your sweet little dick, and—y’understand? I will _never_ let you hide that, not from me.”

Sam’s so beautiful when he lets Dean give him what he needs—lets Dean break him.


End file.
